


Loves Lost

by untouchablerave



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8397796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untouchablerave/pseuds/untouchablerave
Summary: [Movie Verse: HBP] The lost moments in the Half-Blood Prince (which includes a modified version of Make Up, Break Up).





	

Hermione arrived at the Burrow a few days before Harry, just like usual. She plonked her bags down inside the door, inhaling the familiar scent of clean laundry and musky warmth, and was greeted heartily by Molly. As she held her second mother close to her chest, her stomach began to settle from apparating, but the ache of her eyes still strained to scan her surroundings for her favourite Weasley. It was no secret in her mind, or anyone's mind for that matter, that he was her favourite. 

She pulled away from Molly's embrace to ask, but she already knew what, or who, Hermione wanted. "Bedroom," she said simply. 

As Hermione dumped her bag in Bill and Charlie's old room, she climbed the stairs to the top of the Burrow, pushing the bedroom door open to reveal Ron, who was slumped down in front of his bed throwing a ball against the chest of drawers and catching it again. 

"Hi," she smiled.

He looked up at her with his lop-sided grin. "Hey." 

Ron stood up and gave her a hug, resting his chin on her shoulder, cradling the small of her back and letting his fingers entangle themselves in the ends of her hair. As they pulled away, their noses almost touched, and Ron held his gaze into Hermione's eyes, which made her stomach flip over and over again. Tenderly, he kissed her lips, so lightly that there was barely any touch at all, but it was enough to give Hermione electrifying shivers up her spine. As he pulled away, she wanted to say something, anything, some kind of stutter but there was nothing that would leave her lips, not even the ghostly echo of their kiss.

"I should go," she whispered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. As she walked away, she still held Ron's hand, stretching her arm out as far as her arm sockets would allow her before letting go and walking back down the stairs. A few days later, Harry would arrive and there would be something else to talk about. Ron would probably forget their illicit moment, she told herself, but as they all sat down for dinner and felt Ron's leg gently rub against hers, she knew he wouldn't forget. 

_

Inside the Weasley Wizard Wheeze was like heaven for Ron. He loved that his brothers had accumulated such success from cause havoc – but still slightly jealous as he didn’t feel anywhere near as brilliant. He bought a few things for Hogwarts and pocketed them and went about looking for Hermione and Harry, but they were nowhere to be found. His stomach dropped for a moment until he spotted Hermione looking at the love potions with Ginny. “What could she want that for?” Ron asked himself, absent-mindedly.

_

 

The train door closed dramatically as Harry left the carriage. Hermione jumped slightly, shocked at his outburst. But not wanting to irritate Harry further, she convinced herself not to go after him.

“Do you think he’s right?” Ron asked, who sat next to her. He looked over at Hermione, slouching slightly with his hand dangerously close to hers on the cushion.

“Maybe he is, I don’t know, but I won’t believe it until we have evidence,” Hermione stated, raising her eyebrows.

“You’re so logical,” Ron grinned, his gaze almost piercing.

“Thank you, Ronald,” Hermione smiled, in her trade-mark tone.

There was a moment of silence, where Hermione thought that maybe they would be silent the whole time until Harry returned. But then Ron turned to her again.

“You know what happened in my bedroom, at the Burrow,” Ron began, as Hermione’s heart began to thump hard in her chest.

“Yes,” She squeaked.

“Well, I’m sorry, if – y’know – I scared you or anything. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Ron smiled slightly, and she wondered how or why he was being so casual about it.

“No, you didn’t startle me, we’ll – you did, but it was a nice startle,” Hermione replied.

“Oh,” Ron said, “Well, good.”

And Hermione began to relax a little.

_

 

The Great Hall was busy with first years and existing students enjoying each other’s company. Ron and Hermione, all their friends, Dean, Seamus and the twins were waiting impatiently for the feast, tapping their forks against the hard mahogany of the Gryffindor table. 

“I’m so hungry,” Ron groaned, letting his head rest on his elbow.

“Dinner will be here soon,” Hermione reminded him, flicking through a book as she waited. “And hopefully Harry will be too,”

“God, the two of you sound like a married couple,” Ginny joked, rolling her eyes.

“No we don’t!” Ron cried in defence, throwing his balled up napkin in Ginny's direction. 

“I hope Harry is alright,” Hermione muttered under her breath, closing her book, putting it down and then picking it back up again.

“I’m sure he’s fine, he always is,” Ron replied, rubbing his eyes. "Only defeated Voldemort five times already and sixth year hasn't even started yet." 

“I’m serious, Ronald. I’m really worried about him. He’s always getting himself in to mischief,” said Hermione as she looked around the Great Hall in earnest.

“Will you shut up about Harry?” Ron cried, his tone slightly bitter. “Harry will be here when he get’s here. He’s probably gone to see Dumbledore or something.”

Hermione clutched her book close to her chest in defence as plates of food piled high emerged from nowhere. Ron was too interested in the food, and pissed off at Hermione's incessant need to talk about Harry, to continue with the conversation.

_

Hermione sat in at the desk in the Gryffindor common room, re-writing the draft of Ron’s Charms essay. Ron sat on the end of the desk swinging his legs like a small child, making the desk rock and squeak.

“Ron, if you want me to do this essay for you then please stop it,” she asked with a clipped tone.

“Sorry,” Ron muttered. 

Hermione went back to the draft but could feel his eyes on her. Slowly, Ron reached out and took her hand. "I'm sorry," he repeated again. Hermione looked up and locked eyes with him. "I'm sorry I'm an insensitive prat," he said with a limp smile. 

Hermione flared her nostrils and smiled slightly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not. You just… don’t think sometimes –,”

“– I know.” Ron cut across her. “And I’m sorry,”

“Okay,” She nodded, handing him back the essay. “It’s really good,” she told him. “I just tidied up the conclusion for you and corrected your grammar,”

“Thanks,” He smiled, looking at his new essay before his eyes made their way back to her. He took her hand again. “Thank you,”

Hermione shrugged. “It’s fine. Just make sure you finish it off. Harry will be back from seeing Dumbledore soon and then you two will be up all night talking and you’ll never get it done,” Hermione replied with a half-laugh, leaving Ron and her shadow flicking in the firelight.

_

There was a knock on the door and Ron quickly scrambled to get his favourite maroon pyjamas before his bare arse was revealed to his late night visitor. Harry was in the bathroom having a shower and Dean, Seamus and Neville were still playing Wizard Chess downstairs, and wouldn’t have knocked on their own bedroom door. Curious, Ron walked over the door and opened it revealing Hermione in a small spaghetti strap top and a nice pair of cotton pyjama bottoms. Ron’s world moved into slow motion has he noticed the small but pert cup of her breasts in the candle light and her defined waist. He hadn’t seen her this intimately for… well, ever.

“Come in,” He pulled the door wide as she stepped through and looked around, feeling the material of the red curtains that hung from their four poster beds. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in here,” she said, turning around and around, taking it all in.

“It’s nothing special,” Ron stood next to her, putting his hand on his hips.

"Yes, it's almost exactly the same as the girl's dorm, only a few more hairbrushes," she smirked, and turned to Ron. They both stood there for a moment in the comfortable silence as the purr of the shower next door reminded them that they only had a few minutes if they wanted privacy. Hermione suddenly remembered why she was there. “I just came to congratulate you on getting a place on the team today,” she said. 

“Thanks, well, thank you for coming and watching,” Ron replied.

“I hope I didn’t put you off.”

“No, no.” He reassured her. “If definitely helped you being there,”

There was another moment of silence as they looked at each other. The seconds seemed like a lifetime, as they both wondered who was going to say something next and what that something would be.

“Ron, I –,”

But she didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence as Ron pulled her in close by the waist, swooping his head down and kissing her passionately. Hr gripped her firmly, as he accidentally but maybe on purpose half-thrusted his crotch into her, his other hand cupped her face and neck. As Hermione relaxed into the kiss she wrapped one arm around his waist, feeling along the waist band of his pyjama bottoms, feeling him shiver at the playful touch of her fingertips. The other hand entwined itself in his hair, pulling his mouth closer to hers, which probably wasn't possible.

Ron didn’t know how far things would have gone if they hadn’t heard the shower turn off. They pulled away, both looking alarmed as Harry entered the dormitory again with a towel around his waist, whistling to himself.

“Oh, hi Hermione,” He smiled, waking over to his bed.

“I just came to say goodnight,” Hermione stammered, tucking the strays of hair behind her ears.

“Night,” Harry smiled, busying himself with his trunk.

“Night,” She turned to Ron and bit her lip.

“Night,” He whispered, letting her leave the dormitory as though nothing had happened.

_

“And why were you so defensive about the subject of snogging in the three broomsticks today?”

“Well, it’s not something I generally talk about!” Ron said, his voice echoing around the empty Gryffindor common room.

“Shh! People will hear us!” Hermione reminded him in hushed tones.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No I -,"

“I was defensive because...” he began to say but paused, as he didn’t really know why he was defensive.

“It just makes me think that you regretful,” Hermione said, half-asking him.

"Says you worrying about people hearing us," Ron cried in exasperation. 

“Personally I’m sick of playing games," Hermione spat. "And I’ve made up my mind. Let me know when you’ve made up yours.”

Before Ron could answer she stomped up the stairs to the dormitory, and the ache in his heart grew stronger, which he, in true Ron fashion, mistook for hunger.

_

After their argument, Ron wasn’t sure where he stood with Hermione. He was thinking that their friendship may have been ruined forever, after the two encounters that had occurred between them over the recent weeks. At breakfast of his first match, he wanted to deny her further, to test her “choice” however he was told by Hermione that she wanted him to accompany her to the next Slug Club dinner party. Despite this, he couldn't stop thinking about the way McLaggen had spoken about her, wanting to get to know her, the thought made him sick. But throughout the match, all of this had slipped to the back of his mind and when Gryffindor won and he was feeling particularly arrogant, he did a bad thing, a very bad thing indeed.

It was common knowledge that Lavender Brown had held a candle for Ron since the beginning of the year and when she flung herself on him at the end of match party, he had no intention of stopping her, however he was thinking of Hermione the whole time (even if she wouldn’t believe it).

Seeing her cry was the most gut-wrenching feeling Ron had ever felt, but after she set the birds on him it was clear to say he had well and truly messed it up this time, and maybe for good.

_

Hermione left the Slug Club party quickly, wanted to escape McLaggen’s clutches. Walking at a quick pace towards her was Ron, looking as though steam was erupting from his ears.

“How dare you take McLaggen to the Christmas party?” He roared, Hermione was quite taken aback as his outburst. "You told me before the match that you wanted to take me." 

“Well, how dare you snog Lavender?” Hermione retaliated, folding her arms over her chest. 

“We’re not together, Hermione. It’s not like I cheated. She kissed me; big deal, and now she wants to kiss me lots,” Ron cried. “We kissed twice and now you think we’re in some illicit affair?” His mind was telling him to stop but his heart was broken, aching to be put back together again.

“It’s nice to see you admitting it for once. And no, I don’t think that Ron, especially after you willing snogged Lavender in front of me. In fact, the only reason I asked McLaggen to go with me tonight is to get back at you and I know how incredibly childish that is but you started it!”

“Well to be honest, Lavender wasn’t exactly my first choice." 

“Oh wasn’t she? –,”

“No, she wasn’t, but you should be blaming yourself really since stormed off when we were trying to sort things out between us,” Ron shouted, not caring who he awoke.

“I told you how I felt. I said I'm made my choice,” Hermione replied. Ron could feel his face burning hotter and hotter. He knew he was in the wrong. He shouldn't have kissed Lavender, but he couldn't back down now. “I can’t deal with this right now, Ron. We have an early morning train to catch and if you want to have a mature conversation about it on the train home that is fine with me.”

“Don’t hold your breath!” Ron spat and stormed off out of the grounds for a moonlit walk by the lake, kicking tufts of grass furiously as he went.

_

After some time, Hermione just accepted that this was the way things were going to be from now on and there was nothing she could do about it. She and Ron barely talked, although she did console him on the destruction of his house over Christmas. He was monosyllabic and reluctant to talk, which Hermione took as further rejection of her affections. As Harry spent more of his time with Dumbledore or Slughorn, Hermione spent more and more time alone, which gave her a chance to knuckle down on her studies. She was working late one night in the Library, Madam Pince trusted her as a Prefect and let her work late alone without her supervision, asking her to close the door behind her when she had finished.

Hermione was just finishing off the last of her essays when she began to hear footsteps. Thinking it was Madam Pince who had returned, she was shocked to see a full head of red hair enter into the candle light of the Library.

“Ron?” She stammered.

“Hi,” Ron replied feebly, like a naughty school child who had just been scolded. “I just came to see if you were alright; I knew I’d find you here.”

“I’m … fine thank you, are you alright?”

“I just came to apologise,” said Ron, ignoring her question. “I’m sorry, for everything really. I’ve been such a prat and I can’t believe myself, really,”

“It’s fine Ron, really,” Hermione told him.

“No, it’s not fine,” Ron said, sitting on the edge of her desk like he always did. “Kissing Lavender was the biggest mistake I've ever made. I can't believe I've been such a colossal prat. It seems that all I ever seem to do is keep making mistakes when it comes to us, and yet you're so good to me. I can't understand it, Hermione. I don't deserve you, and I'm really truly sorry."

Hermione put down her quill, got up from her chair, and walked around to where Ron was sitting on the edge of the table. She kissed his full on the mouth, her tongue pleading for access which he eagerly granted. She held his head in her hands, then let her arms snake over his broad shoulders and down his back as Ron let his hands trail up her thighs and under her skirt. He felt the lace of her knickers and let his hands grasp her buttock cheeks. She groaned into his mouth as he squeezed them tighter. She pressed her crotch down on his, feeling the rise of the fabric against her. A rush of adrenaline pumped through her crotch, making her throb uncontrollably with desire, in time with the quickening pace of her heart. 

Slowly, his fingers crept past the fabric of her underwear, making her groan deeply into his mouth. Hermione's hand travelled down his chest and began to undo his fly seductively, nibbling his lip and teasing him by pressing her chest against him. She delved past his fly, into his trousers, earning a throaty moan from Ron as she began to pump her hand in good time.

"Hermione, we're going to get caught," Ron gasped through his words.

"You never had such a high regard for the rules before, Ronald," she smirked, grazing her teeth gently over his neck, earning further moans of approval. 

Ron lifted her up and Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist. Shuffling towards the bookcase, he set her down in the privacy between the shelves and pressed her against them. 

Ron hesitated and gulped.

"What?" Hermione asked, but Ron said nothing. 

"Are you sure?" He asked.

Hermione responded by pushing down her knickers to the floor and stepping out of them.

Ron didn't need telling twice. 

"But before things get official between us, you should finish with Lavender," Hermione reminded him, picking up her knickers and putting them into his back pocket. Then, she strutted fiercely out of the library, leaving Ron with the most raging hard on he'd ever had the misfortune to be left with. 

_

The next night, Harry came to find Ron drugged on a love potion that was meant for Harry. By the morning, Ron was recovering in the hospital wing when Hermione went to visit, as did Lavender which proved to be a very productive morning for Ron as he unknowingly broke up with Lavender. As she left, Hermione was left with Ron to consider recent events.

_

Hermione sat in the hard, wooden chair at Ron's bedside, his hand clasped tightly in hers. For a moment, when she had first arrived, their sweaty palms felt awkward clasped around each other, but Hermione learnt to relax, drawing circles on the back of Ron's hand with her finger. She had been here what felt like hours, sitting in the same position, but she wouldn't leave. She wouldn't have Ron waking up alone.

Hermione felt a lump forming in her throat. She was glad Ron was alive, but scared at the same time that she had almost lost him, scared that she would never have had the chance to say...

To say what? It had been years, and Hermione had gone through denial, fighting her feelings to accepting that she might even have a tiny little, itsy, bitsy, thing for Ron... to maybe even thinking she could love him.

And that scared her more than anything. Because that meant that everything would change, and she didn't need things to be hard, not right now. The inevitable battle was just around the corner, that the past six years had been building up to. Things couldn't get complicated now.

In one life, she might tell Ron, but lose him in the battle and never have the life with him that she'd dreamed of. Or, in another, she could repress her feelings, lose Ron in the battle and he would die never knowing how she felt. Or, in another still, she could tell him and he wouldn't reciprocate.

She looked down at Ron, who was peacefully laying still, his red hair sticking up contrasting with his pale skin. She brushed her fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead gently, and slowly she bent down and pressed her lips to his forehead. If this was the only moment she had alone with him before the battle began, she was going to savour every second of it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, trying to stop herself from crying. As she sat back down, Hermione was sure he was asleep, until his eyelashes fluttered.

"For what?" Ron whispered, his eyes still half shut. Hermione held her breath for a moment, wondering if it had been her imagination, but a small smile crept onto his face, as he opened his eyes fully. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," Hermione replied, almost breathless. "I know we fight," she continued, her hands cradling his face. "And I'm sorry that we do."

"Don't apologise, 'Mione, please," he said softly, taking her hand in his.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied, kissing the back of her hand that he still held. "Thank you," he whispered, letting her entwined hands lay on his chest.

"For what?" Hermione smiled. It was becoming their inside joke.

"For being here... jinxing the trials... for being you," he muttered shyly, with a shrug.

Hermione smiled and stroked his hair again. "Get some sleep. Don't worry, I'll be here," she reassured him, as his eyelids grew heavy.

_

Hermione and Ron put whatever they were feeling on hold the moment that Dumbledore died. They both knew that they would have to make big decisions in the next few months and if they were going to go looking for Horcruxes then having a relationship alongside that would be incredibly tough; however being in limbo wouldn’t exactly be easy either.

As the trio looked out onto horizon a phoenix swooped low, Ron stood between Harry and Hermione and laced his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand tightly, letting her know that everything would be alright. And he was sure it would be.


End file.
